Friday, March 17, 2006

If "Life is like a box of chocolates," only the cherry cordials remain


Cases in point:

I have to take Miss M with me to the OB this morning. She screams as I am being examined. She's done it before; my OB claims he isn't bothered. Alrighty then. (My mother-in-law's babysitting services are being reserved for next week instead, when I have to go to a different office and have an ultrasound, so not only am I snagging free babysitting for about 2 hours, but I also am taking her car to get there.)

Dos: I was supposed to have very little to do towards Shabbat cooking at this point. Just a quick veggie side, and buying challah on the way back from the OB. But last night, when I unwrapped the $20, one-and-a-half pound piece of salmon that had been defrosting in the fridge, it smelled of kitchen cleanser. Odd. Naturally I thought I was hallucinating, pregnancy nose or some such thing. I don't have the most acute sense of smell; I am constantly asking Taxman to smell the milk to see if it's ok. When Taxman got home, he rendered his second opinion, which was "I see what you mean. It's probably ok, but do what you want." Since I am an admitted emetophobe, I rarely chance it. If the phrase "When it doubt, throw it out," hadn't been around for eons, I probably would have invented it. So that piece of fish that was supposed to be our dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow is in the trash. New Friday project? Shabbat entrees.

Tres: Miss M, the monkey, can now scale the dining room chairs. This means that the dining room table is no longer safe to store anything, with the exception of maybe bibs and plastic cups.

Quatro: I have not had a haircut in six months. This occurred to me very recently. Taxman usually does it (the advantage of covering my hair), but he's kinda busy right now. Because my haircuts are usually free, in-house, and sans hassle, I don't have any idea where I can get this rectified. If I wanted to spend $600 on a haircut, I'd pick a random salon in Midtown and probably get a fabulous haircut. But I want to spend about $15 and cut four inches off, straight around. And I'd prefer to go out in sweatpants. So I am a little stuck.

Cinco: We're back to 6 or 6:30 being an acceptable time to wake up for the day. At least she wakes up cheerful.

None of this is worthy of the Wednesday Whining at Phantom's, which is why it's my own little Friday annoyances.

Hope the good chocolates are with someone who really needs them!

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